Not This Time
by Idrelle Miocovani
Summary: A year after marriage, Bianca tries to find a moment to herself.


**A/N:** Originally, this was written to fill a prompt on tumblr, "warm water against sore muscles". This is part of a larger series of fics I am working on, which explores Bianca Davri's character and her history with Varric. The series is called _Not by Fate's Design_ and the full list of fics can be found in my profile.

For context purposes, this takes place in 9:27 Dragon and Bianca is 27 years old.

Thanks for reading!

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 **Not This Time**

She sank into the tub, warm water washing over her aching body. On the whole, she despised Orzammar and its aura of golds and brasses, red stone and lava flows, smoke and dead air. It was almost as bad as its depressingly unchanging traditions, which were as depressingly unchanging as its architecture. But if she had to force herself to choose one thing she liked about her new home, it was the plumbing system. Orzammar had some of the most sophisticated bathing systems that put Orlais and Tevinter to shame.

The tub was less of a tub and more of a small marble pool, sunk into the centre of bathing chamber, deep enough to swim in. A ledge ran around the perimeter, something for bathers to sit on when the pool was full. The edges were decoratively carved, not enough to become overstated, but enough to be considered handsome. A series of brass spouts poured water, hot and cool, into the pool, allowing her to control the heat herself without calling upon a servant. Another spout added some kind of perfumed soap that made the water bubble and smell nice. It was something dwarven households of their caste most certainly were _not_ supposed to have.

Bianca sighed and sunk deeper into the water as she tried to massage the pain out of her feet, legs and arms. Too many days and nights at the forge, "playing with her toys" as Bogdan called it. She was on the verge of a breakthrough, she could feel it—but her mind was so clouded from lack of sleep and her body so stiff from the hard labour that she like she had hit a wall. She needed a rest. A moment of peace.

Such reprieves are hard to come by.

"Is this how you spend your nights now, wife? Wasting time with frivolities?"

Bianca closed her eyes, sighing. "Frivolities?" she said. "I'm not the one who decided to illegally import bath soaps from Antiva, I'm just making use of them. This is, after all, my house as much as it is yours."

"My must you pester me so?" Bogdan snapped. "Is your tongue always this glib?"

"Oh, poor thing," Bianca replied. "Didn't you read the fine print on the marriage contract? I'm certain my mother put in fair warning."

"Enough, Bianca!"

Bogdan's foot slammed onto the marble floor with such force that the sound made her eyes pop open. Bianca frowned, crossing her arms over her breasts as she glared through the hazy chamber at her husband.

"What do you want, Bogdan?" she said, her voice dangerously low.

"When will it be done?"

"I don't know."

"You have to do better than that."

 _"I don't know,"_ Bianca repeated.

"I have contractors waiting," Bogdan said. "They have already paid. They are waiting on you and your promises of a miracle machine that will cut their production time in half—"

"I promised them nothing," Bianca hissed. "That's _your_ work. That's _your_ doing."

"I don't care if you have to work your hands bloody, you _have_ to finish it before the week is out!" Bogdan roared, spittle clinging to his beard.

Bianca rose suddenly from her bath. Water dripped from her body as she stepped out of the tub, wringing out her hair and pinning it on top of her head. She eyed her husband, who had stopped speaking. His eyes flickered up and down her body, and the silence in the room lay heavy between them. It had been months now since their last sexual contact. It was not something either of them missed much.

"Then I hope you have learned your lesson," Bianca said as she crossed the chamber to grab her towel. She dried herself off. "I won't take the blame for you scrounging for profit before we can deliver a true prototype. If House Vasca takes the anger of some very powerful nobles, that will be on _your_ head, not mine. I'm not the merchant here, I'm just the smith."

She pulled her robe around her shoulders and tied it shut.

"Now if you don't mind, husband," she continued, "I am going to my chambers. There's a new book by a very good author from Kirkwall I want to read. I heard it's a delight."

Bogdan's face reddened with anger, but Bianca didn't wait for him to start yelling. She was already gone.


End file.
